"Make a fist," Doc Hasford said, a hypodermic syringe held in his teeth and Walker tried so hard that his whole arm shook, but nothing, "That's good, kid. You didn't seen that?"

"Don't bullshit me, doc," Walker sat on a collapsible canvas chair in the base's medical bay - another damp recess in the rock around the outside of the main messs/rec area - whilst Doc stood beside him, checking the bandage around the wound.

"Forget the fist," Doc knelt next to Walker and took the needle out of his teeth, "Focus on the index finger instead." It moved no more than a quarter of an inch toward his palm but the lance corporal was overjoyed. "Told ya," he added, "The bullet disrupted a lot of the connections with nerves in your hand but nothing too permanent I think. I can't promise a full return of dexterity."

"As long as I can pull a trigger again," Walker grinned from ear to ear and scarcely listened to what the corpsman was telling him, "It still hurts like a bitch though."

"That's what this is for," Doc held up the needle before plunging it carefully into Walker's forearm, "I'll change the dressing and you can get some sleep here." He motioned over to the stretcher that has been padded out into a makeshift bunk. Walker flinched at the shot and nodded to Doc. There was a sharp pang of pain as the bandage was removed from his upper arm and Walker stared intently at the wound. A deep hole of flesh that revealed muscle and tendons, blood seeped slowly and the Doc wiped it carefully with a swab before squeezing on a new compress. After the whole thing was wrapped in a fresh bandage Walker rose unsteadily to his feet, staggered over to the cot and collapsed in a drug-induced stupor.

As he waited for the inevitable slide into unconsciousness, he saw a marine nervously stoop through the entrance and motion toward the bunk as he spoke to Doc, "Corpsman can we talk? I mean... privately."

Doc let out a little groan at the sight of the man, "Brauner? Again? Sure private, Walker here will be out like a light any second now. What's on your mind?" The two men and the room itself blurred and spun as the tranquilisers kicked in and Walker drifted off into a coma-like sleep.

He dreamt of Helghan - as he invariably did these days - of pink clouded skies that would seep blood red and acid rain that seared his skin as readily as it corroded the statues of Visari. Of course he dreamt of the Helghast. Of grotesque, red-eyed and blood soaked grunts marching up to his face, plunging combat knives into his guts and drifting away from him again to watch him bleed. He would look down at the protruding handles, attempt and fail to remove them before looking back up again to find the Helghast gone, to find Helgahn gone. To find himself under the blue skies of Vekta, under the white ceilings of his childhood home. His mother would glide out of the next room, stop short of an embrace and look down at his hands. Taking hold of his wrists, she would lift his arms to show the blood dripping from his fingertips and shake her head at him. Tears began to form in her eyes, "What did you do with my son?" But the dream would never let him reply. There would be a flash and then all-encompassing flame would lick and tear at the two of them.

He came to shivering and shaking in the cot. Disorientated, groggy and with jerked movements he attempted to sit up but was forced back down by a flat palm that leant heavily on his chest. "Calm down eh?" there came a familiar voice from a blurred silhouette as Walker flailed his limbs, "Stop bloody squirming! Doc!"

"Hold him," Hasford leaped from his seat behind the desk and took hold of Walker's ankles as Vanderburg held his wrists, "Walke- Walker! Calm down kid! Come on, it was just a dream." Walker eventually submitted and lay on the bunk dripping with sweat and panted heavily. The two men holding him down loosened their grip and sat back away from the young man.

"The... nuke," he managed to get the words out and puffed out his cheeks in an effort to control his breathing.

"Only dream I ever have," Doc muttered, "Sometimes it gets me, other times I get to watch the Higs burn."

Walker sat up with his back to the wall and tried to focus on Vanderburg, "Sergeant? When did you get back? How long have I been out?"

"Six hours," Doc replied.

"Yeah kid," Vanderburg grinned, blue eyes shone, "I work faster without your ass to worry about. How's the arm?"

"Getting there. Doc reckons I'll get full use back in it."

"No promises," the corpsman pointed at him, "Zero guarantees and all kinds of small print on my professional opinion."

Vanderburg sighed and rolled his eyes for Walker's benefit, "Yeah yeah, Jim. We get it. Oh, I got you something." The sergeant rooted around, produced the unspent side-arm bullet from a pouch on his coat and tossed it to Doc.

Hasford rolled it between his thumb and forefinger for a few seconds before he smirked, "You specials and your games. Even the Shadow Marshalls don't play like that anymore." The two veteran marines laughed.

"Straphanging with you fucks has left me bored and old habits die hard," Vanderburg winked and Walker was left bemused as he added, "Besides those Marshalls are glory-hunting bastards. All night-vision and silent insertions, useless in a fire-fight. All ISA should be grunts first." The corpsman nodded sagely and tossed the bullet over to Walker.

"Here, you keep this," he smiled, "You'll know the sergeant here really trusts you when he tells you where he got it."

"What does he mean?" Walker turned to his squad leader.

"Forget it," he glared over at Doc, "He's just messing with you. And gimme that." The bullet was tucked back away in his pocket once more whilst the two veterans stared uneasily as each other. Walker, as ever, was left in the dark. The sergeant then got to his feet, "Well I have to go see a man about a dog. I'll see you when Hasford here sets you free, eh?" And he ducked out of the room. Walker sat perplexed and shook his head slowly. He then focused his attention back on his right hand and the ever decreasing gap between his thumb and index finger.

"Things would be a lot easier," Doc eventually walked over to his desk and perched himself on its edge, "If you stopped thinking of him as your friend."

The lance corporal winced with sustained effort that brought his two digits no closer, "But we get on and he picked me for that bridge mission."

"That man is not a people person," Doc gestured with hands as though framing some 'big picture', "None of the special forces guys here are. They're disconnected from us, even from each other. We all just got lucky enough to find ourselves shooting in the same direction they are." Walker didn't like what was being said but still had the need to learn everything he could about the sergeant. "And any help he offers you; encouragement, training or advice? Is first and foremost for his own benefit or survival.

Walker thought back to the occasions on which the sergeant had snapped at him and to the revelation that he had been a criminal before joining the marines, "He's nuts?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Doc was back on his feet again and tidied his tiny office space, "But he is certainly a little... unhinged. Though it seems to be serving him perfectly well in the current situation." Walker went quiet and sullen. He admired Sgt. Vanderbug certainly, that much was clear to anyone, but had done so for what he thought had been loyalty and his cool head when under fire. To be told that he was perhaps mistaken in this was a shock but also a betrayal. He wanted to confront the sergeant, his left hand tightened to a fist and he didn't even notice all the fingers on his right make the journey halfway to doing the same.

"Doc," he spoke softly, "Can I get out of here now?"

Hasford saw his intent, "I'm not keeping you. But if you go talk to Vanderburg about this he will just laugh at you. I haven't told you anything he wouldn't have told you himself had you found the balls to ask him sooner."

Lance Corporal Walker rose from the cot to his feet and stormed out of the medical bay, incensed. He wanted to let all this out somehow, to just pummel something or someone. How he saw it, the only way off this planet was to stick together. The men here at the base needed to stick together and the ISA forced scattered across the continent needed to stick together too - albeit more loosely. To only care for your own safety was to fly in the face of this and give in to the Helghast, he thought. Shaking his head, he headed for the company barracks and passed within earshot of the room the three special forces operatives had made their own. There came laughter from within and Walker nearly marched straight inside to demand what they were finding so hilarious. Instead he continued on to the barracks, ignored greetings from his squad-mates and fell on his bunk. He allowed his mind to drown in thought before he drifted into an agitated, dreamless sleep.

He awoke later with an audible groan and an ache in his right arm that throbbed between bearable and excruciating. Instinctively he tried to move his fingers and found and affirming amount of movement had returned to them. "Look who's up," Jeff muttered from the ammo-crate table nearest Walker's bunk, "You still in a bitchy mood?"

"Huh?"

Tex looked up from the playing cards held between his enormous fingers and eye-balled Jeff, "You came stomping in here and went straight to bed without so much as a 'hello'. If I was a pussy you might have hurt my feelings." They spoke without looking at him and he sat up on his bunk, stretching his back with an expression of pain on his face.

"I'm sorry guys," he said eventually, "Just really needed some rest."

"Next time," Tex looked over from their game and grinned, "You can cover your own retreat." He broke into laughter at his own joke.

"He thought we were actually mad?" Jeff was bemused, "You okay?"

Walker rubbed his face with his good hand, "Yeah, just something Doc was sayin-"

He was cut off mid-sentence by a loud crack, a noise they all instinctively recognised but hoped to never hear within the walls. Each man reached for his weapon. It echoed several times and only when it went silent and then were pretty sure this wasn't to be followed by more, they looked at each other and gave an impromptu sit-rep.

"Side-arm?"

"M4 revolver?"

"Negligent discharge?"

"Shut up and listen!"

There were several voices now, mostly marines from other rooms loudly demanding to know 'what the fuck' was going on. But there was one sound that they all picked out. A wailing sob, an almost animal-like, low-pitched scream that repeated itself over and over, "Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh shit!..."

Well! My plan is to wrap this whole thing up in the next chapter but I wanted to get this one out before I take a few days visiting family. I should though have plenty of time to get some more writing done. I have also finished the first chapter of my next story, so that is ready to go the moment I finish this one (I hate overlapping them). Anyway, reviews, reviews. Because how else do I know how well I am doing?